“The Orcs changed their minds,” Jack shrugged.
“The Orkuns seemed very eager to make the trade after your first mission to the planet!” the flunky snapped. “What happened now?”
“Couldn’t say, Major,” Jack said stonily.
Well, he could say. But he wasn’t going to tell this pompous windbag that he’d apparently mortally insulted the Grand High Poombah when he polished his dusty sunglasses with the hem of his T-shirt. If Daniel had been there to smooth things over, of course, they might have still managed to get the treaty signed; instead, they'd swapped escalating insults until their team had been rather forcibly escorted to the Stargate with no invitation to return. But since this selfsame flunky was the one who had expressly forbidden “Doctor bleeding-heart Jackson” to go along and jeopardize the mission with his “self-righteous prattling,” Jack didn’t really feel the need to explain himself.
“Toilet paper,” the man muttered again. “With clowns like O’Neill leading your teams, General, I have no idea why you haven’t blown up the planet before now!”
“We could try a local area for starters,” Jack suggested levelly. “If you’d care to volunteer as the target?”
“Colonel O’Neill!” Hammond snapped.
“Sorry, sir,” Jack said with reluctance.
He watched the flunky storm out of the office with a mixture of smugness and resignation. It was always fun to wind up the blowhards, of course, and this one had been even more annoying than usual. But he couldn’t help feeling a little irritated with himself – not so much for ruining the treaty, but for disappointing General Hammond and exposing him to further derision from the upper echelons.
“Anything you’d care to add, Colonel?” General Hammond drawled as his office door slammed shut.
“No, sir,” Jack confessed, wishing he wasn’t still standing at attention so that he could shuffle his feet just a little. “It’s just – well, you know me, sir!”
In other words, Why did you trust me to sign such an important treaty when you knew I would more than likely put my foot in it?
“Yes, Colonel,” Hammond said, his voice carrying a wealth of meaning. “I do.”
Jack stared.
Hammond swiveled his chair precisely thirty-eight degrees, which put his back squarely to the security camera mounted on the wall. Jack called on the training of years in Special Forces to keep his face straight and his gaze from flicking in the camera’s direction.
“The Orkuns use their sonar-based technology to rehabilitate criminals,” Hammond continued in a quieter voice. “But Doctor Lee has warned me that it would take very little effort to modify that technology to influence listeners through any medium that transfers sound waves, including telephones, televisions, or radios. I don’t think this planet is ready for mind control, Colonel – especially when that power will be in the hands of politicians with their own agenda.”
“Sir,” Jack acknowledged. He didn’t dare nod or shake his head.
“We walk a fine line, Colonel,” Hammond continued in that same soft, steely tone. “Orders can be morally wrong without being considered unethical. I couldn’t disobey this one and reject the treaty out of hand, but I could make sure we got the results we wanted. I picked the best man for the job to follow orders to the letter – without giving the wrong kind of people the power to influence the future of this nation and this planet.”
“Yes, sir.”
Hammond leaned back in his chair and swiveled it back to its usual position. “Dismissed, Colonel,” he said. “We’ll have a full debriefing from the rest of your team at 1800 hours.”
“Yes, sir,” Jack said again, snapping a technically unnecessary salute before turning on his heel and striding out of the office.
Once in the hallway, Jack allowed a huge grin to spread over his face. The maestro had pulled another fast one again!
Giving silent thanks that the SGC was lucky enough to have General George Hammond at the helm, he strode off, whistling, to find Carter and Teal’c.